


Cookie Jar

by firewalkwme



Series: Hannigram D/s [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Choking, Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 03:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17236214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firewalkwme/pseuds/firewalkwme
Summary: Will disobeys, thinking it will get him punished. Hannibal rarely plays by the rules.





	Cookie Jar

**Author's Note:**

> fuckin ay

Will is disobeying.

The chill of it is making him quiver. It’s overwhelming enough to make his fingers shake as he reaches underneath the glass display on the kitchen counter. He doesn’t want what he’s reaching for. Not really. He’s chasing the thrill of doing the thing he knows he isn’t supposed to.

But somewhere in that train of thought one of the overly adorned cookies from said display ends up in his mouth.

It tastes better than the one Hannibal handed to him just hours ago. Leagues better. His mouth breaks into a nervous smile. Even the sweat pooling on his forehead is comfortably cool. 

“Will.”

His breath hitches. He heard.

Of course he heard. Will was making no effort to be quiet. He knows how to pad around on a wooden floor and not be noticed. He wasn’t bothering, not this time.

Hannibal sighs. “You know I know why you’re doing this.”

Will doesn’t say anything. His mouth is full of cookie and talking with your mouth full is rude. He knows better than to break this rule, even with the evidence of his disobedience sitting at the corners of his mouth.

“I suppose I can humor you this time. Though, be warned, next time I will not be so forgiving.” Will can tell that Hannibal is trying to get into headspace. The transition isn’t as seamless as it normally is. Is he stifling laughter? Is it the ridiculousness of the situation? Will caught with his hands in the cookie jar, wide-eyed and red-handed?

Will doesn’t have time to consider this for much longer, because Hannibal has unlaced his fingers and is pointing at the ground. Will wipes his fingers on his pants, eliciting an eyebrow raise from his dominant, as he totters over to the spot in front of his other on the ground and kneels, palms up on his legs. 

Hannibal grips Will tightly under the chin. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours,” he says, smirking.

“I was - “ A chocolate chip goes down the wrong pipe and he coughs, covering his mouth. Doing that is better than keeping his hands in place. A trade-off. “I was hoping you would, uh… get up.”

“Let me get this straight.” He squats, tightening his grip on Will’s neck. Will feels like a puppy being held by the scruff. “You know that you can ask me for this any time. That I could tell you wanted it hours ago. That I could smell it on you, my silly pet.” 

Hannibal has his hand locked tightly around the width of Will’s neck, pushing upwards just enough to make Will gasp for air.

“And yet you go through all the trouble of getting both of us out of bed. Eating a cookie you barely even want. Just to get my attention?” He chuckles and, just as he thinks of letting go, pushes just a bit harder. Will sputters.

Hannibal moves in. Puts his too-sharp teeth on his ear and bites. Hard. 

Will gasps for air and finds himself coughing, then gasping again. There’s not enough room to breathe and the white spots are setting in.

“You thought you would get to cum tonight, huh? That I would force a couple of orgasms out of you for recompense? You silly, silly thing. I ought to shove my dick down your throat until you vomit, you little slut.”

Will begins to feel himself fall. The sensation is overwhelming. “H…” Hannibal. The only person that can make him feel like this.

Then it’s over. Hannibal is walking out of the kitchen. Behind his shoulder, he says, “Sleep on the couch. I’m expecting to find you there in the morning.” Then the stairway light is on. Then it’s off. The bedroom door softly closes.

Will is dizzy. The wet stain on his pants from his half-hard dick starts to dry. He heaves a heavy breath and heads for the couch.


End file.
